If Wishes Were Horses…

Something familiar slides back in
between the cracks
and the spaces intentionally left behind

from the Mother Mary Oracle by Alana Fairchild

Someone I knew in lifetimes before

an old friend from far off fictional lands

Quests that left our muscles and spirits sore
Suddenly reappears after centuries or more
The floodgates of my imagination–
I feel a key in the lock begin to turn
A fire that’s kept all of my visions simmering,
grows and threatens to burn all of our altars down
My eyes glow in the reflection of the house I used to live in, now ablaze
My words come out in colors and shapes instead of sounds
My shouts emerge as sharp whispers
My demands remain unmet,
yet I surprise myself as I nestle into contentment
My fists unfold into open palms that reveal new lines, lines of love and life that were not there yesterday…
Just as mysterious as my migrating birthmark that began our journey under my right ribcage, and now resides on my left…
Sometimes I lie flat on the floor, and I open the ceiling with my mind
I let my heart chakra paint the whole world green because I’m really exhausted with red.
If you ever caused earthquakes when your heart breaks, you’ll know what I mean…
Maybe you don’t, and all of this makes you roll your eyes
Causes you to release exasperated sighs
It doesn’t matter if what is true for me isn’t true for you
When my soul gets restless and sends my heart back out to wander
I could still make my way to you
And I could tell you about the Moon hovering over the Two of Cups
How the mystery is all I ever cared about
Is all that truly captures me…
I live for slipping behind the veil,
I long to linger in the many shades of grey,
where nothing is split into pinks and blues
Where the lines that exist, someone unqualified drew
And I dream for days and days of cosmic escape
Where I return to outer space
Reunite with all of the stars
Stars that died long before their beams ever reached my irises…
But I always wake up buried
in blankets and earthly kisses
And because I love you and you love me
You place a hand on my heart,
mutter something about horses and wishes
And the sentiment is sweet enough to carry me
All the way to my next sleep.

Leah R. Chatterjee


Mars Directing 

Happy Sun in Cancer!

Act One (it’s not very fun)

Scorpion stinger straight to my third eye

Eight weeks of exploring all of my ugliest sides

Hope, magic, faith: exit slowly stage right

Act two (insomnia, you fool!)

Hyperactive Brain & Sleepless nights: enter stage right

Feeling frazzled, spent, generally bereft

Mars Direct: enter swiftly stage left!

Act 3 (it somehow aligns magically)

Leah wakes up, as if out of a murky dream

Quiet for days, she sets free every stitch from the tattered seam

Planets, Sun, Moon, Family, Friends (near and far), Soulmates, Stars, and meteorites that appear to fall:

Enter both sides of the stage for a cosmic curtain call!

–Leah Ruthe Chatterjee 

Thoughts from the cocoon

When my voice cracks like ice hitting tepid water,
Let it break like waves, crashing into only rocks and sand

When my heart bursts with rage,
A tiny atom splitting inside of my chest,
Let it burn out quickly and smoulder into love

When the tears begin to fall and flood, as though they may never stop,
Let them water the dry ground beneath me till the seeds begin to sprout.

When my hands cover my ears to muffle the wretched sounds,
Let my fingers slightly part to let in the songs I need to hear

And when I find my voice again to speak,
When the words I’ve been searching for across continents are finally found…
Let them be heard.

–Leah Chatterjee

Out of the Woods

Held in place by a promise
held motionless by hope
Held without having felt held
In so many years
I wrench myself free of myself
Of a promise I now see
Was one I made to myself
On your behalf
Frozen for what seemed to be
Some kind of fleeting forever
Even in the smallest days of winter
I feel warmth spread from my belly
Outward to each extremity
Free from the hurt that I
Clung to like a ghost clutching
its last glimpses of life
I always saw the forest for the trees
I always listened to them speak
But I missed everything else
All the life that hangs in all the branches
And everything in the in-between
Free from the roots that bound me to this spot
I leave for the first time ever
The meadow may be snowy,
But the sunlight is much better.

Leah Ruthe Chatterjee


Prism Lights

Her smile hits me in the eye

the way light does when it goes through a prism

and is reflected in a mirror.

Little slivers of a rainbow that isn’t quite solid

Her translucence tricks you into thinking

that she isn’t strong enough for this

But she moves through obstacles

like smoke through a screen

And I can feel her walking towards my street

while I push once more on the porch swing

and dangle my feet awkwardly

Even though she is miles away

her words still tickle my ear drums

reminding me to stay sane

for just a little longer

If you ever had a chance to see her

underneath the waning quarter moon,

you’d probably feel the same way

you might try to catch her

and hold her in some gentle way

But she can always escape

even the strongest stranglehold

And it only makes me feel better

knowing nobody could ever stifle,

suffocate, or dowse

the light from her smile

I like the way it hits me in the eye

Like the sun when it hangs low in the sky

I don’t want to stare directly at her

Just a little bit below

where my cheeks still burn a little

from her prism light glow.

leah ruthe chatterjee

Half of me

I long for India
Half of me is always aching
For languages unlearned
For scents that awaken
The three year old in me
For the comical sound of the rickshaws’ horns
For my cousins’ faces
For my uncle’s crooked smile
For my aunt’s heartfelt chatter
For one last story from my grandmother…
Half of me is always aching
I long for India

Leah R. Chatterjee